


Innocent or vicious, eyewitness or corpse

by AssassinatedBeauty



Category: Manic Street Preachers
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinatedBeauty/pseuds/AssassinatedBeauty
Summary: "You see, Richie, or who you are now, only the fact that you are officially dead and I'm the most boring member of the group saves you from being caught?" Sean stands beside him, trying not to look into his eyes and as if specifically looking away.





	Innocent or vicious, eyewitness or corpse

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Невинный или порочный, очевидец или мертвец](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931478) by [Zabriskie_Point](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zabriskie_Point/pseuds/Zabriskie_Point). 



"I hate you," Sean says. Completely calm. Similarly, he said "hello" a little earlier. "I know," the answer follows. Sean frowns. "You understand, Richie, or who you are now, it's only the fact that you're officially dead, and I'm the most boring band member.  
\- Sean stands beside him, trying not to look into his eyes and as if specifically looking away. "You knew who to tell you that you lived in a monastery." It's amazing why you were not searched here. And maybe not surprisingly? Many thought and thought, as you are somewhere in Thailand, India, you learn Zen, you become enlightened. Or on Goa with hippies, you smoke cigarettes, idyll. And you calmly live as a monk in Scotland, in a Benedictine monastery, you can even figure out the rosary. A little surreal: Richie James Edwards lives a peaceful life of a monk in the Abbey of Plaskarden, where no one has ever looked for him, - Sean finally looks at him attentively, wiping off the snow melting from his forehead.  
"We searched," he replies. Sean flicks his mouth slightly to the left.   
"But you hid." And then they read the charter of the Order of the Benedictines and realized: it's ugly and "Richie would never" - rather snorts, than he answers and briefly pauses. Shona's interlocutor is also silent. What can he say?  
"Your father has cancer," Sean says suddenly.  
"Edwards, or who you are ... I hate you." I speak every time I speak and I will speak. Do you understand what you did to all of us? The public does not care about us, the public bemoans you, poor little handsome boy, how could it have disappeared, did not endure ... You wrote a book again. Some kind of goat from those with whom you slept. Someone interviewed was limited, but this one has already adjusted the book, well done. What is she up to, what do you think? Can you describe all your scars? Or what did you do with her in bed and how many times? Beauty, rock and roll ... Effective for sure, right. Here it is considered true.  
The fans. The book. Wyre read it ... Wished the author to die, as always, - Sean reduces his lips to a thin line. - And such a scribbler is considered true. Ah, suffering, romance. A real rock. But I only know the truth. Sean closes his eyes and, moving his breath, continues. "You chose me right." I have not told anyone and will not tell. Not even your father. It will be better for everyone. But..." Sean pauses again and stares absently at the rosary in his hands.  
What? Shona's interlocutor asks when the pause becomes too painful.  
"It's funny, if the best ministers of the cult are really those who do not believe in God," Shawn says, seemingly quite out of place. "You've always been clever, and you're supposed to understand the status of apocryphal literature right now, right?" Tell me, if I suddenly write a little book on behalf of some Betty, as you live in the abbey of Plaskardin, it will be a betrayal or an apocrypha to the books about you, eh? - and Sean, at last, looks the interlocutor in eyes, is intently and testively.  
"I am an apocryph to myself," he replies sharply. It's clear from Sean's face that he finally sees a man he knew well; he sees Richie, even if he's aged 20 years, and not a monk, dispassionately fingering rosary beads. It's unlikely that Sean likes this spectacle, but Richie realizes that nothing can be changed. "I create myself a biography myself, which nobody recognizes, it's too much of it ..." He clenches his fists so that his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands. And he does not say anything else, but he knows for sure that Sean understood everything.  
Sean does not answer. And then, dropping only the words of farewell, leaves.  
The next time Sean comes to say that Richie Edwards's father has died.


End file.
